


Animal Magnetism

by bobbiewickham



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:58:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2814479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbiewickham/pseuds/bobbiewickham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre wants to try an experiment, but he needs to make a concession to his guinea pig first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Animal Magnetism

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on Tumblr for a prompt from TheOnlyCheeseLeft.

“Give me a good argument, Combeferre, or concede my point.” Courfeyrac, arms folded and jaw set, leaned against the wall of Combeferre’s apartment.

Combeferre, not for the first time, wanted to hit him.

“It’s no good looking at me like my old Latin master always did before rapping my knuckles,” said Courfeyrac. “My father hasn’t given you the authority to punish me if I don’t subject myself to your torturous exercises.”

“I’d wager that if I wrote to him requesting such authority, he would give it enthusiastically.”

Ignoring this, Courfeyrac went on. “You cannot expect a man to allow you to attempt to mesmerize him for nothing. If you want me to consent to this _experiment_ of yours, I demand something in return. Either give me a good argument in defense of the Charter—none of that feeble, watery stuff you were trying to feed me before—or else admit that I’m right. Admit that it’s worthless. Better yet, admit that it’s poisonous. Otherwise, you can find some other poor fool to sit still while you try to heal his sprained wrist with animal magnetism.”

As a matter of principle—specifically, the principle of intellectual rigor, and also the principle of not spoiling Courfeyrac with too many victories—Combeferre spent a few minutes trying to think of a better argument than he had henceforth provided. But he could not. He was too annoyed, and in too much of a hurry. If Courfeyrac got what he wanted, then Combeferre could get on with seeing for himself if Mesmer’s animal magnetism theory had any merit. He rather doubted it, but he wished to explore the matter scientifically.

Combeferre sighed. “Very well, I concede your point.”

Courfeyrac’s eyes narrowed. “What point? Be specific.”

Through gritted teeth, Combeferre said, “The Charter is a lie. It promises some compromise with the people, some liberty, but reserves to the king the power to snatch it all back, and so is a deception that can only delay progress and result in war, rather than leading gradually to greater freedom. There, are you satisfied?”

Courfeyrac studied the ceiling for an infuriating moment before smiling. He looked like a child who, after several hours of pestering and whining, had finally succeeded in wangling a sweet from its mother. “Yes.”

“Good. Now keep your word. Sit down in the chair.”

Still grinning, Courfeyrac obeyed.

Combeferre drew up another chair. According to the book in Combeferre’s possession, Mesmer’s procedure required the doctor to sit with his knees touching the patient’s knees, and then take the patient’s thumbs in his hands while staring into his eyes.

“I believe I’ll claim to be an expert on this treatment the next time I entertain a lady,” Courfeyrac said, snickering. “It seems to require no skill or knowledge, and it provides an excellent excuse for all sorts of things that would never pass muster otherwise. Dear me, are you blushing? My dear Combeferre—”

“Quiet,” said Combeferre. “You’re supposed to be an experimental subject, not a clown.”

Courfeyrac meekly hushed, but his mouth was twitching too much for the gravity the experiment required, and Combeferre soon gave up.

“We can try it,” Courfeyrac protested. “I’m willing, I’m a man of my word—” The effect of this declaration was ruined by the obvious tremble of suppressed laughter in his voice.

In the face of Courfeyrac’s mirth, Combeferre could not keep his own countenance. He gave up that struggle as well. “You’re nothing of the kind,” he said, smiling in spite of himself. “I gave in to your demand and received nothing in exchange, and I cannot even be cross with you for it. Get out of my sight.”

“Come with me and I’ll take you to dinner instead,” said Courfeyrac, and once more, Combeferre gave in. 


End file.
